Home sweet home – how much in this phrase. I do not mean the structure itself, but the fact of being out of school. I again took up training with hemomancy, without fear of total control, as in Hogwarts. Although I can’t do anything particularly global. The creation of a bloody sphere shield is similar to Protego Totalus, but the protection level is unknown. It is hugely problematic to verify it.

In general, regarding hemomancy, I am tormented by vague doubts that until the end of Hogwarts, it will not remain at the best level of development – a few summer training will not give the proper growth in the volume of manipulations and their quality. After graduation, it will already be possible to come to grips with this training, but for now, this is only a small trump card in the sleeve, like a sword. ​​

By the way, there is also a lot of unclear about the sword. Since he is a part of me, I feel that he is far from just a piercing-cutting tool for doing good, but no matter how much I tried to listen to my feelings, I could not understand anything new.

Having thought about it, I decided that it was not worth going back to kendo in terms of attending classes. For two weeks, I was engaged only in hemomancy, regular training, and other things. Besides, I had to go shopping with the Knights – I grew out of clothes. The magic one, it turns out, can adjust itself within small limits. Still, even they became short, and I noticed this only upon arrival. The usual tracksuit was rather loose, so I did not notice any notable changes, but they, it turns out, are there. And how did I fit into jeans? Mystery.

In mid-July, the Knights delighted me with the fact that they heeded my request and decided to go to France. We let our owl go to get food on its own because we won’t take it with us. The training camp was held in record time, as were the preparation of documents and tickets’ purchase. On the fifteenth of July, we decided. On the seventeenth, we had already set foot on the land of the “least resistance” in Paris.

At customs, a man in civilian clothes approached us and, presenting documents confirming that he was an Auror, asked to follow him. He led us into a separate spacious room with an examination table, armchairs, and a couple of some kind of ficuses in pots in the corners.

“Please, give me your wand and magical items for inspection,” he said almost without an accent.

I removed the wand holster from my forearm, took out the wand itself, and laid it on the table. John opened the suitcase and put my backpack on the table. Aurore took a tiny, incomprehensible cube from his pocket and, placing it on the table, waved his wand over it. The cube grew into some kind of ivory-colored artifact board. Auror put my wand on the board and made a couple of his passes.

“Permit me to check the backpack, monsieur?” He asked, looking at me. The question is clear – on such backpacks, you can find a variety of protective charms. You should always ask the owner for permission or just crack them if the owner will protest.

“Yes, yes, of course,” I nodded, and the Auror, opening my backpack, held a magic wand over it.

“No prohibited goods were found,” he declared, now holding my wand over the board. “Acacia, Dragon Heart Vein, twelve and a half inches. What is the purpose of your visit to France, monsieur?”

“Knight. Maximilian Knight. These are my father and mother, John and Sarah Knight. Tourism. My parents have already been in France, but not in Paris, and I’m curious about the local magic quarter and everything else.”

Auror nodded, made a couple more passes over the board, and a small card like a driver’s license appeared out of nowhere. Auror handed it to me and took a colored brochure out of his pocket.

“Here, Monsieur Knight, are your documents for a temporary stay in Magical France. Check out the brochure for all the information you need to know about neighborhoods and places to visit.”

Then the Auror returned my wand and backpack and only then smiled slightly.

“Welcome to France. I hope you will take only good impressions with you.”

“Of course, monsieur.”

We stayed in a fairly decent hotel near the Place de la Bastille. The choice fell on these neighborhoods due to the close location of everything interesting, including the magic quarter. For several days, the Knights and I walked around Paris, visiting various and even exciting places. The most, as it seemed to me, funny – the differences. Differences from what was in a past life. Different cars, different fashion, different signs … I was in Paris in a past life, walked the streets, listened to street musicians, visited all sorts of places. The difference is enormous, and it lies in people. You don’t see it, you don’t notice, but now people are more open, smile, communicate, look around with interest. In my time, everyone was immersed in smartphones and gadgets, not noticing anything. It seemed that even walking next to each other, people corresponded with each other and did not talk.

We were able to make our way to the Louvre, walk around the Sorbonne, look at Versailles and visit Notre Dame. Impressive cathedral, really. It creates an indescribable impression of heaviness, massiveness.

The magic quarter was different from the one in London. On the one hand, the differences are colossal, but on the other, none. The entrance to it was hidden behind an invisible door in a luscious pink candy store. As soon as you pass through these doors, you find yourself on a stone-paved smooth straight street with other roads’ intersections. The houses around are neat, level, lined up close to each other, and have different floors. But most of all, the differences in style are the medieval half-timbered houses. This style is the first that comes to mind when talking about medieval France, Germany, and other European countries. White walls with wooden beams and crossed struts, small windows, sharp, high roofs. Pretty sweet.

Just like on Diagon Alley, you could see here owls flying overhead with letters and parcels, various flying airplanes, origami-like birds, and lanterns floating in the air. But there is also an important difference – the style of clothing of local wizards. He is more Muggle, but there are some subtle differences. Mantles are common here but not as loose. These could be capes, some design solutions at the junction with other clothes – dresses, greatcoats, coats, jackets, etc. They did not shy away from clothes of different cultures, looking for some new fashion trends. For example, I saw several young wizards in the likeness of Chinese qipao, still at the same time in pants or without cuts. After all, although France in general and Paris, in particular, are in some way trendsetters, it is not customary to bare your legs too much.

In general, the magical quarter of Paris made a much more pleasant impression – light, airy, but this is all, as they say, to each his own. Someone quite likes London gloom and heaviness.

My biggest problem is my insufficient knowledge of the language. I know French mediocre, I can introduce myself and ask for directions, but a constructive dialogue is beyond my abilities. It would seem, what is the problem? English is an international language! But it seems that they forgot to tell the French wizards about it. I even decided to correct this injustice. Well, I mean, learn the language. To do this, I bought a fairly large number of books in a regular bookstore, and in another store – a bunch of videotapes with films, because you will also need to hear the language.

The next morning I informed the Knights that I had gone to the magic alley and left the house. There is no need to buy anything else, and I spent so much money, and I also need to buy for Hogwarts. The only thing that interested me more or less was magic literature, but I did not rush with it. The language is still unknown to me, and taking books at random is stupid. Therefore, I just walked, sat in a magic cafe, looked at people.

I was about to go home and even left the magic quarter when suddenly I felt some kind of faint push from behind and began to fall into darkness …